


Even Now

by CaffieneKitty



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, London, Metafiction, Purple Prose, spooky maybe, the eternal Holmes and Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 10:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19665193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffieneKitty/pseuds/CaffieneKitty
Summary: On certain nights, they walk.





	Even Now

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [watsons_woes](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org/) [2019 July Writing Prompt #5 - Photo Prompt](https://watsons-woes.dreamwidth.org/1915878.html). If I had more nerve and knowhow, this would have been podfic, so count yourselves lucky on that. The prose has gone fully purple for this one, I do apologize.

  


On nights where the fluorescence of street lamps shades closer to gas-lit flame, and mists creep low off the Regent's Park boating lake (an innocuous imitation of their great and terrible killing-fog ancestors), nights where even the rush of traffic has paused, in that liminal space of then/now, on the wet-shining pavement, they still walk.

They can be seen in a passing shadow on these nights, their presence heard, felt. Those two gentlemen. Taking the night air, arm in arm; a murmur of conversation, a shout of laughter that does not echo, except through time.

On these quiet, damp, fire-glow nights, they are there. They will always be there, even on sun bright days, and drenching rains, when their presence is less observed and more inferred with the aid of hope, and a will to see the wonder yet in the world.

But on these nights, those damp-dark-quiet nights, when all the worlds are close together in the interstitial space between probability and possibility, they walk. And as the innocent mists retreat to their lake-home, and the skies begin to pale with dawn, the men turn, stepping off the path of the great park, disappearing southward along Baker Street.

-.-.-  
(that's it)


End file.
